World Memorial

by Robert R. Best

* * *

  Timothy stumbled through the snow. His brothers in the Lord were dead. He'd heard them scream as the corpses ripped into them. The girl had left them wounded and easy prey for the dead. It wasn't right, wasn't Christian. But Timothy knew he couldn't expect that from her. She clearly did not know His blessings.

  But the boy. The boy was one from the visions, like the boy who had fed them and glowed. None of them had glowed before. Surely they were getting close. Surely the blessing of the Lord was near.

  By His mercy, Timothy was holding on. His broken arm hung limply to his side. The bite a corpse had given him hurt and he knew he was dying, knew he was infected. He could feel a cold numbness spreading from the bite and through his body. But he had to keep going. He had to keep following the girl. And the boy.

  The boy.

  He stumbled over a hill, nearly slipping as he did. He blinked at what he saw. A town. A makeshift, scrap-metal town with a big wall surrounding it.

  He blinked again and saw the girl heading across the snow, toward the town. The boy was with him. They moved there with purpose, like they belonged there.

  The gate opened and they walked inside. Timothy watched, making sure he remembered everything he saw. Making sure he remembered the location.

  Two corpses were also in the field, stumbling toward the walls. A bearded man in a long coat came out, his long, wild hair blowing in the wind. He saw the corpses and raised his rifle. Two shots and the corpses fell. The man walked back inside.

  The gates shut. Timothy stared.

  "Thank you, Lord," Timothy whispered. "Thank you, Jesus."

  He knew if the boy had gone there, there was a good chance the other children were there. Maybe, by God's mercy, all of the children were there. The Lord had revealed the location of the chosen ones. To Timothy. To simple, humble Timothy. He stood there a moment, silently worshiping God.

  He coughed. Blood sprayed out across the snow. His head was swimming. He knew he didn't have much time. He had to let Joel and the others know.

  He turned and headed back for the church.

  Thirteen

  Maylee threw open the door to Elton and Carly's camper. Carly, who was inside, gave a little start, then relaxed when she saw it was Maylee.

  "You're back!" she said, stepping over to her with arms out.

  Maylee shut the door and hugged Carly. The warmth of the hug made her shudder. She didn't want to feel good. She never wanted to feel anything again.

  She pulled away and strode to the other side of the small area. She pulled back a curtain that covered a tiny window and stared outside. Nothing but blackness, roughshod walls and snow.

  "What's wrong?" Carly asked.

  Maylee stared outside, saying nothing. She heard Carly step up closer.

  "What's wrong?" Carly repeated.

  Maylee let the curtain fall. "It was bad, Carly."

  Carly put her hand on her shoulder. The warmth comforted Maylee. She didn't like it. She didn't want to be comforted.

  "What happened?"

  "I'm sick of it," said Maylee, starting to shake. She wished Carly wasn't touching her. She could stay strong if Carly wasn't touching her. "I'm sick of fighting. I'm sick of beating things to death. I'm sick of seeing shit I shouldn't see."

  "I know..."

  Maylee spun, jerking Carly's hand from her shoulder. "Do you?" she snapped. "Do you really know? Because I don't think you do."

  Carly stepped back, hurt spreading across her features.

  Maylee softened. She stepped forward, taking Carly's hand. "I'm sorry Carly, I don't know what I'm saying. I just..."

  Carly pulled her close, embracing her. Maylee shuddered from the warmth. Carly held her closer. Then they were kissing. Maylee kissed her back hungrily.

  Then the door opened. Dalton stood outside, his hand on the handle. He stared inside.

  Maylee pulled away from Carly and turned to the door. "What the hell?"

  Dalton stared for an instant longer, then blinked. "I was looking for you."

  Maylee stomped to the door. Her cheeks were hot and her chest thudded. "Well stop."

  Dalton looked between her and Carly. "Were you guys..."

  Maylee slammed the door. She turned, leaning back against it. "Fuck."

  Carly pushed her hair behind her ear, looking down. "We have to tell them sometime."

  Maylee pushed herself from the door, walking across the small room and shaking her head. "No, see, actually we don't. That's the beauty of not saying anything."

  Carly sighed. "What are you afraid of, Maylee?"

  Maylee stared at the corner. She shrugged. "I honestly don't know. I'm sure Mom would be okay with it, but what about your grandfather?"

  Carly stepped closer to Maylee. "I'm sure it will be alright. He loves me."

  Maylee turned from the corner and looked at her. "I just don't know."

  Dalton's muffled voice came from the other side of the door. "Are you guys done in there? I wanna talk to my sister now."

  Carly looked at Maylee. "They're going to find out eventually."

  Maylee looked at her a moment longer, sighed. "We'll talk later."

  She walked to the door and opened it. Dalton stood in the snow, a few feet away from the steps.

  "What?" she said, looking down at him. She stepped outside and started down the stairs, shutting the door as she went, rocking the camper with each stomp.

  Dalton looked between her and the camper. "Were you guys..."

  "What?" Maylee demanded. She reached the bottom of the steps and stood in the snow.

  Dalton looked at her a moment longer, as though wondering something. Then he looked down. "I'm supposed to tell you I'm sorry."

  "What?" she repeated, her tone shifting to honest questioning.

  Dalton kicked at the snow. "I'm supposed to tell you I'm sorry for following you."

  Maylee chuckled, shifting her stance and crossing her arms. "Mom's that mad?"

  Dalton nodded. "Mom's really mad."

  "What's she doing now?" Maylee asked, stepping away from the camper and heading towards the house. Dalton followed, seeming a little nervous once he figured out where she was going.

  "Talking with Park. Making some plan to protect the kids."

  "And you."

  Dalton sighed. "And me. I'm so sick of that."

  "So you said."

  "You sound like Mom when you talk that way."

  Maylee didn't know what to think about that. She changed the subject, slowing her pace. She wanted to take her time. She and Dalton didn't talk much these days.

  They turned down a side alley and Dalton seemed relieved at the change in direction.

  They walked in silence for a while. Maylee finally spoke. "Park, huh? How about that crap?"

  "I was sure he was dead."

  "I think we all were," said Maylee. Dalton stopped walking. Maylee took a step before she realized. She stopped, looking at him. "What?"

  He was looking off into the dark, cocking his head and frowning.

  "What is it?"

  "Shhh," he said, holding his finger to his lips. "Listen."

  Maylee did. At first she heard nothing. Then, a whimper. A soft, whining noise, somewhere in the dark between two trailers.

  She took a step toward the sound, reaching over her shoulder to pull her bat from the strap on her back. "Stay here."

  "I can—"

  "I said stay here!" she said, holding up her hand behind her.

  She crept towards the sound slowly, stopping when she got to the dark passage between the two dwellings. She cocked her head, listening. "Hello?"

  No response. More whimpering. A soft, wheezing whine.

  And something chewing.

  Holding the bat in front of her, she stepped into the passageway. For a few seconds she was in darkness. Dim light ahead told her she was moving. She stepped slowly, carefully. The whimpering and chewing continued.

  Dalton whispered, and from the way it echoed, Maylee guessed he was
standing outside the passage. "Maylee...."

  "Dammit, be quiet, Dalton!" she hissed into the dark.

  She stepped slowly for a few seconds more. The chewing and whimpering grew louder as she approached the source. She emerged on the other side of the passage. Far-off barrel fires provided dim light, and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust.

  Corey from the Guard lay on his back in the snow. Something had stained the snow dark. Maylee knew it was blood. She blinked, her eyes still adapting, and saw a corpse lying next to him. It was a withered old man with no legs. A trail was gouged through the snow where he'd dragged himself along. Corey twitched as the man bit into his throat. The man pulled back, sinew between his teeth. He chewed, moaning ecstatically as blood dripped across his chin.

  Corey saw Maylee and reached for her, his eyes wide and straining. He tried to speak, but only a whimpering wheeze escaped from his ruined throat.

  It took less than a second for Maylee to process this. "Fuck," she said, rushing toward Corey and kicking the corpse off of him. The withered man rolled across the snow, hissing at her as he slammed into the far wall. The metallic clang rang through the area.

  Maylee rushed up, swinging her bat underhand into the corpse's temple. With a sharp crack she smashed it against the wall. Dark gore shot upwards across the metal. She wrenched her bat away, trailing thick goop across the snow. The corpse was still.

  She turned back to Corey. He clutched at his throat, wheezing up into the dark sky, and looked at Maylee as she walked back to him. She wondered how long he had. He'd been a good man.

  Then she wondered how the corpse had gotten in.

  She noticed Corey was pointing away from both of them, past his feet and to Maylee's right. She followed his finger and saw that a large metal flap in the far wall was bent wide open. Through the moonlight outside, Maylee saw dark shapes moving. The wind carried groans to her ears.

  "Shit shit shit," she said through her teeth, running to the nearest alarm rope. She pulled repeatedly, sending loud clanging and clattering through the town. All around her, doors on nearby campers and sheds opened and people poked their heads out.

  "Everyone stay inside!" yelled Maylee, still pulling the rope.

  The people looking outside saw the hole. They saw the corpses outside. They screamed. Some grabbed their own weapons and rushed out. Others slammed the doors and started frantically locking their windows. Maylee could see the flimsy glass shaking on trailer windows as they tried to secure them.

  After a few more seconds of ringing, the rest of the Guard arrived. Few even hesitated. Most dropped to one knee, rifle out before Maylee had to say a word. She let go of the rope and ran out of the way, leaving the opening clear. The corpses reached it, their dead arms reaching inside and rotting heads poking through.

  "Fire!" she yelled as she ran along the side wall, keeping clear of the rifles. The Guard began firing. Maylee heard the bullets thudding into dead skulls and the moans of the falling corpses. She reached the guards and turned. Corpses fell, their heads snapping back as shots ripped through them.

  When most of the frontline of corpses had fallen away, Maylee motioned for them to stop. They did, lowering their rifles and looking at her. More corpses were coming up to fill the space their shots had opened.

  "We gotta get that thing closed," said Maylee. "Come on!"

  She and the guards rushed to the opening. A corpse was already coming through, a large woman with a pus-covered face and one white cloudy eye, but Maylee smacked her back through the hole and bent down to grab the edge of the bent flap. The others crowded around her, grabbing the edge where they could.

  "Push!" yelled Maylee. And they did. The flap bent back up easily with all the hands on it, but the corpses were pushing back from the other side. They moaned and pawed at the metal, trying to get through.

  Then Dalton was beside her, pushing up against the metal. The metal began to move more easily. Maylee considered sending him away, but they needed all the force they could muster.

  The corpses crowded around outside the hole, pushing on the metal flap. The guards, Maylee and Dalton pushed back. They were making progress.

  From the corner of her vision, Maylee saw Mom and Park rush into the area, Park immediately un-shouldering his rifle. Mom looked first at Corey, then at Maylee. Then she saw Dalton. "Dalton!" she yelled "Get away from there!"

  "I'm doing this right now, Mom!" Dalton yelled back, pushing against the metal. It slowly creaked upward. Dead hands grabbed at the edges, pawing and reaching.

  "Dalton!" Mom yelled again. "Get over here now!"

  "Not now!" Dalton yelled, putting his shoulder against the metal.

  "Dalton!"

  Dalton let go and turned to face her. The weight of the corpses outside pushed the flap downward. Maylee and the guards struggled to slow it.

  "Dammit, Mom! Just fuck off! I'm doing this!"

  The weight behind the metal flap shifted, knocking several of guards into Dalton. Dalton stumbled to one side, into a stack of rusty barrels. The stack rocked back and forth, then collapsed with a loud clanging. Dalton let out a yell as they crashed down onto him.

  For a second Maylee stared at the barrels in shock. Angie dropped her cane and limped toward the barrels.

  "Dalton!" she yelled.

  The corpses behind Maylee clawed at her hair, shaking her back to awareness. She put her shoulder further under the metal and dug her feet into the ground. "Push! Hard and right fucking now!"

  The guards did. Maylee screamed against the groans of the corpses outside as they slowly pushed the flap back into place. Maylee stepped back and slammed her bat into the metal, both in frustration and grief and to further bend the metal back into shape.

  "Nail it!" she yelled to the others. "Now!" They started working, using their rifle butts to pound the nails that were still there back into place.

  Maylee ran over to the barrels, her heart pounding. Mom, Park and a few townsfolk were digging at them.

  They came to one barrel, sitting upside down against the snow. Two barrels had fallen against it. The barrel shook and muffled yelling came from inside.

  Maylee and Angie pulled the two barrels away from the shaking one, then Park and a few townsfolk pulled it up and away.

  Dalton sat on the ground, clutching his knee.

  "Damn thing slammed on my knee," he said. He otherwise looked fine.

  "Shit, Dalton," said Mom. She grabbed him and hugged him tightly. Judging from Dalton's face, too tightly. A tightness that said she was mad. Maylee noticed how tired she looked. For the first time in Maylee's memory, her mother looked old. Not just older than Maylee. Old old.

  Satisfied Dalton was okay, Maylee walked back over to Corey, who was still wheezing through the opening in his throat. He nodded to her as she knelt next to him, the color draining from his face. His eyes said I know what has to be done. Do it.

  Maylee nodded back to him. Elton walked up, looking down at both of them.

  "And there goes another one," he said. "Thank fuck we've got you in charge."

  He pointed his rifle to Corey's forehead and fired. Maylee kept her eyes locked on Corey's. His head jerked and his eyes went blank. She refused to let herself look away. He slumped, blood pooling his head. Elton snorted down at them and walked away to the newly repaired wall.

  Park stepped over, scratching at his beard. He slung his rifle over his shoulder and knelt next to Maylee.

  "Tell me, kid," he said, looking in the direction Elton had walked. "Is there any reason to trust that motherfucker?"

  Maylee finally looked away from Corey and turned to Park. She thought of Carly, wondered if she was the only reason she tolerated Elton. "He's a good shot."

  Park scratched his beard again. "Well that just makes the question more important, doesn't it?"

  He stood and stepped over to Elton. Maylee watched, still kneeling, while the guards pounded the metal back into place. Elton stood watching as well.

  "Looking over
your work?" said Park.

  Elton turned to Park. "You talking to me, hillbilly?"

  "Talking to the dog twat who tore that hole in the wall," said Park, stepping closer.

  "You're not blaming me for her lack of protection!" he said, jabbing a finger at Maylee.

  "And you're always more than happy to point that out, aren't you?" Park said, shoving Elton's shoulder back.

  "Because I care about this town! What's left of my family lives here!" Elton stepped back to Park, clenching his fists.

  The two men stared at each other a moment. Finally Elton shook his head and walked away, headed for the wall. He started banging his rifle butt against the metal.

  Angie limped over, trailing Dalton. She looked at down at Maylee.

  "You and Dalton. In the house. Now."

  Fourteen

  Brother Joel stood before the altar, looking it up and down. A worn but clean tarp was draped over it. Small organs were placed neatly across the tarp. Little pools of blood had collected under each one, sending thin tendrils of red across the blue of the tarp.

  Joel smiled, looking down at the knife still in his hand. It was coated in a thin layer of blood, but a few clean parts remained, reflecting the candlelight back to his eye. It was a glorious sight. Holy.

  Warmth grew in his heart as he brought the knife up to the altar. He grabbed hold of a small liver laid out across the tarp. He brought the knife to the organ and began to carefully slice through it.

  He paused briefly mid-slice, letting his gaze wander around the sanctuary. His flock was eating. Most sat in the pews, their faces beaming as they brought the bright, glistening meat to their mouths and bit. They were being fed, in the deepest sense. Joel was happy. A few smiled back at him, the blood on their cheeks and chins beautiful in the context.

  A few others lay on their backs on the floor, the blood on their faces letting Joel know they had finished the holy meal. Their red hands were up, reaching for the ceiling. They rocked back and forth, praising Jesus.

  Joel thanked God silently and turned back to the work before him. He slid the blade through the liver, finishing the slice, marveling at how tender the meat was. How precious.